Stone Age Rampage

Time Hunters: Stone Age Rampage

Chris Blake

Travel through time with Tom on more

Gladiator Clash

Knight Quest

Viking Raiders

Greek Warriors

Pirate Mutiny

Egyptian Curse

Cowboy Showdown

Samurai Assassin

Outback Outlaw

Stone Age Rampage

Mohican Brave

Aztec Attack

For games, competitions and more visit:

www.time-hunters.com

With special thanks to Lisa Fiedler

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1: Pup Tent

Chapter 2: Dawn of Time

Chapter 3: Trapped

Chapter 4: Cave Dwellers

Chapter 5: Cat’s Eyes

Chapter 6: Wild Water

Chapter 7: On the Hunt

Chapter 8: Trial by Fire

Chapter 9: The Brightest Fire

Chapter 10: Happy Camping

Weapons

Stone Age Timeline

Time Hunters Timeline

Fantastic Facts

The Hunt Continues …

Discover a New Time Hunters Quest!

Copyright

About the Publisher

1500 AD, Mexico

As far as Zuma was concerned, there were only two good things about being a human sacrifice. One was the lovely black pendant the tribal elders had given her to wear. The other was the little Chihuahua dog the high priest had just placed next to her.

I’ve always wanted a pet, thought Zuma, as the trembling pup snuggled up close. Though this does seem like an extreme way to get one.

Zuma lay on an altar at the top of the Great Pyramid. In honour of the mighty Aztec rain god, Tlaloc, she’d been painted bright blue and wore a feathered headdress.

The entire village had turned out to watch the slave girl being sacrificed in exchange for plentiful rainfall and a good harvest. She could see her master strutting in the crowd below, proud to have supplied the slave for today’s sacrifice. He looked a little relieved too. And Zuma couldn’t blame him. As slaves went, she was a troublesome one, always trying to run away. But she couldn’t help it – her greatest dream was to be free!

Zuma had spent the entire ten years of her life in slavery, and she was sick of it. She knew she should be honoured to be a sacrifice, but she had a much better plan – to escape!

“Besides,” she said, frowning at her painted skin, “blue is not my colour!”

“Hush, slave!” said the high priest, Acalan, his face hidden by a jade mask. “The ceremony is about to begin.” He raised his knife in the air.

“Shame I’ll be missing it,” said Zuma. “Tell Tlaloc I’d like to take a rain check.” As the priest lowered the knife, she pulled up her knees and kicked him hard in the stomach with both feet.

“Oof!” The priest doubled over, clutching his belly. The blade clattered to the floor.

Zuma rolled off the altar, dodging the other priests, who fell over each other in their attempts to catch her. One priest jumped into her path, but the little Chihuahua dog sank his teeth into the man’s ankle. As the priest howled in pain, Zuma whistled to the dog.

“Nice work, doggie!” she said. “I’m getting out of here and you’re coming with me!” She scooped him up and dashed down the steps of the pyramid.

“Grab her!” groaned the high priest from above.

Many hands reached out to catch the slave girl, but Zuma was fast and determined. She bolted towards the jungle bordering the pyramid. Charging into the cool green leaves, she ran until she could no longer hear the shouts of the crowd.

“We did it,” she said to the dog. “We’re free!”

As she spoke, the sky erupted in a loud rumble of thunder, making the dog yelp. “Thunder’s nothing to be scared of,” said Zuma.

“Don’t be so sure about that!” came a deep voice above her.

Zuma looked up to see a creature with blue skin and long, sharp fangs, like a jaguar. He carried a wooden drum and wore a feathered headdress, just like Zuma’s.

She knew at once who it was. “Tlaloc!” she gasped.

The rain god’s bulging eyes glared down at her. “You have dishonoured me!” he bellowed. “No sacrifice has ever escaped before!”

“Really? I’m the first?” Zuma beamed with pride, but the feeling didn’t last long. Tlaloc’s scowl was too scary. “I’m sorry!” she said quietly. “I just wanted to be free.”

“You will never be free!” Tlaloc hissed. “Unless you can escape again …”

Tlaloc banged his drum, and thunder rolled through the jungle.

He pounded the drum a second time, and thick black clouds gathered high above the treetops.

“This isn’t looking good,” Zuma whispered. Holding the dog tightly, she closed her eyes.

On the third deafening drum roll, the jungle floor began to shake and a powerful force tugged at Zuma. She felt her whole body being swallowed up inside … the drum!

“I don’t understand,” said Zuma, from the back seat of the car. She looked out at the countryside whizzing past. “Where are the temples? Where are the pyramids?”

“We don’t have any pyramids in England,” replied Tom.

Tom’s dad was driving the car in the front seat next to him. He gave Tom a curious look. “Of course there aren’t any pyramids in England!” he said.

Zuma giggled as Tom’s face flushed.

“Er … what I meant to say was it’s too bad we don’t have any pyramids,” Tom stammered. “Because that would be really cool.”

“Yes,” Dad agreed. “It certainly would, especially for an archaeologist like me and a history fan like you.”

“Absolutely!” Tom nodded enthusiastically. Then he sighed with relief as Dad turned back to focusing on the road. Usually he wasn’t so careless when it came to talking to Zuma around other people, but sometimes he forgot he was the only one who could see or hear her.

“That was close,” giggled Zuma, sliding across the car seat. Her Chihuahua dog, Chilli, stuck his head out of the open window. His pointy ears flapped in the wind.

This time, Tom remembered not to say anything back.

Having a 500-year-old slave girl for a friend could sometimes be a challenge, but Tom didn’t mind. After all, it had been him who’d accidentally released Zuma from her magical imprisonment by banging a drum belonging to the Aztec rain god, Tlaloc. And ever since then, they’d been travelling through time in search of the six gold coins that Tlaloc had scattered through history. Only by finding all six coins could Zuma win back her freedom and return to her own time.

Tom had become so used to Zuma’s being there that now he barely noticed she was painted blue and wore a large feathered headdress. He had also grown very fond of her Chihuahua dog. Chilli had lots of energy, and for such a small animal he was very brave.

The car slowed down, and Tom’s dad pulled over at a farm shop to pick up some supplies. When he was gone, Zuma asked, “Why are we heading so far away from home?”

“It’s called going on holiday,” Tom explained. “It’s something people do when they want to relax and have a good time.”

“We can have a good time at your house,” Zuma pointed out. “You’ve got that big television thingy and your computer games. And we can play tennis – I’m getting good at that.”

“This is different,” Tom explained. “It’s called camping. We’re going to spend a few days sleeping outdoors and exploring the woods.”

Zuma frowned. “Why sleep outside when you’ve got a lovely bed?”

“Because it’s fun!” replied Tom. “Don’t you like roughing it?”

“I was a slave,” Zuma reminded him, with a roll of her eyes. “I spent my whole life roughing it – sleeping on hard floors without even a blanket to keep me warm, waking up stiff and freezing cold. I’d much rather relax somewhere comfortable.”

Dad came back with two shopping bags and put them in the back seat, right on Zuma’s lap. “The campsite’s just around the next bend!” he announced.

“Brilliant!” cried Tom.

“Great,” grumbled Zuma.

Minutes later they were unloading the car and carrying their rucksacks and tents to a clearing beside a crystal blue lake. Chilli scurried around, barking happily, while Zuma sat on a rock, dangling her feet in the water. The shiny black pendant she wore around her neck glinted in the sun.

Tom and his dad worked together to put up the tents – a large one for Dr Sullivan and a smaller one for Tom. When Dad went back to the car to fetch the sleeping bags, Zuma came and climbed inside Tom’s tent.

“This looks a bit flimsy,” she said, with a frown. “How’s it going to protect us from the dangers of the forest? What happens if a giant snake tries to slither inside in the middle of the night? Or a ferocious jaguar attacks us?”

Tom laughed. “There aren’t any ferocious jaguars in England,” he said.

“Maybe,” said Zuma. “But we can’t be too careful. Let’s go back to your house where it’s warm and comfortable and—”

At that moment, Chilli came racing into the tent and crashed into Zuma, who fell backwards against one of the tent poles.

“Watch out!” cried Tom.

Too late. The pole went flying out of the ground, and the tent collapsed in a heap on top of them.

“Help!” cried Zuma, flailing around. “Get me out of here!”

“I’m trying!” said Tom.

Suddenly he felt hands grasping his ankles. With a firm pull, Dad dragged Tom out from under the tent. Dr Sullivan’s face was as stern as one of Tlaloc’s thunderclouds.

“Oops,” said Tom lamely.

“Thomas Sullivan,” said Dad, shaking his head. “What on earth are you playing at? Now we’ll have to put that tent up all over again!”

Tom was about to explain that it wasn’t his fault, but then he stopped. How could he blame it on an invisible Aztec slave girl and her dog? His dad would think he’d gone crazy!

“Sorry, Dad,” he muttered.

Sheepishly, he helped his dad put the tent back up, and by then it was getting dark. As his dad prepared a camp fire, Tom went inside his tent to unroll his sleeping bag. Zuma carefully crawled in after him.

“Sorry about before,” she said. “Chilli’s such a clumsy thing at times. You’re not going to make us sleep outside with the jaguars, are you?”

Before Tom could answer, he felt a drop of water splash against his nose. It had started raining – inside the tent! Suddenly there was another figure crouching beside them. It was Tlaloc, the Aztec rain god.

His big blue body filled the cramped tent, his feathery headdress squashed against the ceiling.

“It’s time for your next quest!” he roared. “And this one will be the most difficult yet! You cannot hope to succeed – you can only hope to stay alive …”

“If this is your idea of a pep talk, it isn’t a very good one,” said Zuma.

With a snarl, Tlaloc raised his arms and the rain suddenly stopped. Then a magical glittering mist filled the tent, whisking them away through the tunnels of time into the unknown.

The magical mist cleared and Tom found himself standing at the top of a mountain overlooking a valley. The air was pure and fresh, unlike anything Tom had ever breathed before. There wasn’t a person or a building or a road anywhere to be seen.

“Great view!” said Zuma. “But where are we?”

Tom looked at the bulky fur cloak draped over Zuma’s shoulders. Whenever Tlaloc sent them tumbling through time, their clothes changed to match the style of the period they were visiting. Tom was dressed in a similar cloak to Zuma. Both of them were wearing leggings made from animal hide, and furry boots stuffed with grass.

“We’re definitely a long way from home,” Tom said. “I think further than we’ve ever been before.” He pointed to the black pendant hanging around her neck. “Ask your necklace and see if it can help us.”

Zuma’s magical pendant gave them clues to where Tlaloc had hidden each golden coin. Taking hold of the necklace, Zuma chanted the familiar question:

“Mirror, mirror, on a chain,

Can you help us? Please explain!

We are lost and must be told

How to find the coins of gold.”

A riddle appeared on the surface of the black pendant:

Step back to the dawn of time;

To find the coin follow the rhyme.

Two men of stone – one large, one small,

You’ll find a clue upon the wall.

Go down a path of bubbling blue;

When in doubt, to the right stay true;

Keep on past where the deer roam;

The brightest fire will lead you home.

“What does ‘the dawn of time’ mean?” Zuma asked, as the silvery words vanished into the depths of the pendant.

“If our clothes are anything to go by, I’d say we’re in the prehistoric era,” said Tom.

“Prehis-whatty?” laughed Zuma. “That’s not a word! You’re making it up.”

“I’m not!” said Tom.

“What does it mean then?”

“It’s a very old period in time,” Tom explained, remembering what his dad had told him. “Way before the Ancient Romans, Greeks and Egyptians. Way before people could even read or write.”

“Hmm.” Zuma frowned. “So … no computer games?”

“Not really, no,” said Tom.

A sudden gust of wind whipped across the mountaintop. Tom shivered, and pulled his cloak tightly around him. “Let’s get down from here,” he suggested. “It’ll be warmer in the valley.”

“Lead the way,” said Zuma.

They began to pick their way down the jagged slope, careful not to slip on the loose rocks. Chilli darted ahead of them, sniffing and snuffling at the ground. The air was still cool and crisp but walking helped warm Tom up. As they carried on down the mountain, Zuma looked at her boots admiringly.

“These shoes don’t look like much,” she said. “But they’re pretty comfortable. These prehis-whatty people couldn’t have been that stupid.”

“I didn’t say they were stupid,” said Tom. “I just said they hadn’t learned to read or write yet.”

“How about talking? Could they talk like us?”

“No one really knows,” replied Tom. “Their words probably sounded a lot different to ours – like a lot of huffs and grunts.”

“Sounds like my old master,” Zuma told him. “He used to huff and grunt all the time, especially when I burned his breakfast.”

Thanks to Tlaloc’s magic, whenever Tom and Zuma travelled back in time they could understand whatever language the people there spoke. Even if people around here huffed and grunted, Tom would be able to understand them. He was still worried, though. This empty world felt strange and different. Whenever Tom saw prehistoric people on the TV, they were brutish cavemen who bashed people on the head with clubs and dragged them away by their hair. Had anyone even invented fire yet? Tlaloc hadn’t been joking when he’d said that this would be Tom and Zuma’s toughest challenge yet.

As they came down the mountain, the ground began to level out and a line of trees appeared along a ridge. Chilli barked with delight and scooted down towards the nearest tree. The dog’s nose twitched excitedly as he sniffed around the gnarled roots.

“Looks like Chilli’s caught a scent of something,” said Tom.

“Maybe it’s Tlaloc’s coin,” Zuma said hopefully.

“I don’t think you can smell gold.”

“You don’t know Chilli,” Zuma told him. “He can sniff out anything.”

They followed the Chihuahua over to the large tree. The little dog had stopped sniffing the roots and was now looking up into the leafy branches.

“You see?” Zuma said. “The coin must be in those branches. All we have to do is climb up and get it.”

Tom peered into the shadowy tree. Something moved in the branches – but it wasn’t a coin.

“Look out!” he cried.

The next moment a net dropped down from the tree, knocking Tom and Zuma off their feet and pinning them to the ground!

Tom and Zuma squirmed beneath the net, the prickly ropes scratching at their skin. Chilli had been caught in the net too, and was trying to gnaw his way free. But he was just as stuck as they were.

“It’s no use,” groaned Zuma. “We’re trapped!”

Two shadowy figures dropped down from the tree’s upper branches, landing on either side of the net. Tom cried out in surprise. He tried to stand up, but the more he thrashed about, the more tangled up he got. The figures leaned in closer, peering at their catch through the gaps in the net. One was a grown man, the other a young boy.

A real live caveman, thought Tom. And a caveboy!

Like Tom and Zuma, their captors were wrapped in bulky fur cloaks over hide leggings. They wore furry brown hats made from some kind of animal skin, and carried rucksacks made from a hairy pelt. But it wasn’t their clothes that made the breath catch in Tom’s throat – it was their weapons. The man was carrying a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, as well as a copper axe. The boy had pulled a sharp dagger from his belt, and was pointing it threateningly at Tom and Zuma.

As they tried to wriggle free, Chilli had managed to gnaw a hole in the net big enough for his little body. Squeezing through the gap, he charged at the hunters, yapping furiously. To Tom’s horror, the man drew the axe from his belt and swung it at Chilli. The Chihuahua darted out of the way, missing the blade by inches.

“No!” screamed Zuma. “Don’t hurt him!”

The man jumped. “Goat talks?” he gasped, blinking in astonishment.

“Who are you calling a goat?” Zuma said indignantly.

The boy made a grumbling noise that Tom realised was a chuckle. “She’s not a goat, Blood-Father,” he said. “She’s a girl.” The boy stuck his knife back into his belt. Lifting up the net, he helped Tom and Zuma out. “Sorry,” he said. “We thought you were food.”

Tom and Zuma scrambled clear of the net, relieved to be free from the prickly ropes. The older hunter put away his axe. He was still scowling. “What tribe you belong?” he asked curtly.

Tom scratched his head, not sure how to answer. “My tribe isn’t from around here. We’ve come from very far away.”

“From beyond the mountains?” the hunter asked suspiciously.

“Way beyond them,” said Zuma. At her feet Chilli was still glaring at the hunter, giving him a warning growl. Zuma picked up the Chihuahua and gave him a hug.

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